


Sanctuaries Large and Small

by Freyson



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Actual Hurt/Comfort, Explosions, Fluff, Medical Procedures, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Panic, Sleepy Cuddles, author needs an outlet for their stress and this is it folks!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-28 07:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freyson/pseuds/Freyson
Summary: Just a series of mostly fluffy (sometimes angsty) reader insert one shots, hope they're alright for my first go out :)(Comments and suggestions are always appreciated! Enjoy!)





	1. Chapter 1

The Doctor’s tinkering with another new project until the wee hours of the morning and you are almost sound asleep. But that’s when the nightmare comes. In a flash you bolt awake, sitting stock straight up in bed and breathing hard. A part of you commands you stay as still as possible while the other forces you to your feet, ready to run at a moment’s notice. You’re still shaken from the nightmare as you walk down the blessedly short hallway to The Doctor’s private workshop. The door is already open as you walk inside and he turns to greet you. Loose grey band shirt, no shoes, blue pajama pants. Casual mode. A side of him you rarely see when he’s not done up in heavy doc Martens boots and his signature thick coat. 

“Aren’t we up late.” 

You try to speak but a squeak comes out instead. You haven’t had a nightmare in some time, haven’t been afraid of your own mind like this in a while. It’s hard to wrap your head around how your own brain could conjure such self destruction in such vivid technicolor. The Doctor sees the fear flashes in your eyes. He looks up at you and then pats the spot beside him on the floor. 

“Sit with me?” 

You nod at that and you sit with him on the floor, hard oak wood with a light stain. Sturdy, if a little creaky. 

“Can I help?” 

You can’t put together the right words, as if the breath out of your chest had been snatched away. You only nod and insert yourself into his open arms. He holds you, breathing a little deeper, a little more evenly for you to catch up and match his tempo. Steadily your fast beating heart begins to slow to its normal rhythm until it’s just the two of you breathing in time with each other. 

“You’re safe here with me.” He comforts you, repeating ‘you’re safe’ in multiple languages, each time underlined in his familiar timbre. 

“Now I want you to say it.” 

“What?”

“I want you to say ‘I’m safe.’ Can you do that?” 

You nod.

“Go on then.”

I“I’m safe.” 

“Very good.” 

He squeezes you a little tighter and you feel the weight unwind in your chest, the panic that was once rising in your throat dies away. He runs his fingers through your hair and you lean into the touch, just starting to fall asleep again. 

“Can I sleep here with you?” You ask. 

“Of course.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer 1: Angsty whump because author is Stressed™  
Disclaimer 2: Author is not a doctor so this is miles away from medically accurate.   
Enjoy anyway!  
¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

An explosion burned up quicker than you could ever run. You tripped and you fell and only realized on the way down what a stupid risk it was to take. You knew that. But you took it anyway. You knew later, if it would ever come-if the pain screaming through your body would just_ stop_. Later The Doctor would remark on just how stubborn you were. How reckless when it came to saving people. Just like him. You laid on the ground, bleeding for a while as the rains and thunder came down, shaking the raging planet to its core. You chased after The Doctor and his would be captors and fell down a landslide. It hurt. Everything hurt. Every breath you took felt like inhaling broken glass and not to mention your shredded flesh currently screaming at you. Just when you feel consciousness begin to slip away, just when you let yourself succumb to the injuries you had sustained you heard a voice. A ragged, accented, screaming voice shouting out your name over and over. 

“Y/N! Where are you?” 

A part of you lets out a groan before you shut your eyes and finally give in. 

He keeps you conscious as he brings the Tardis around to the ditch you landed sideways in. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me, c’mon now. I know it hurts but it’ll be over soon.” He hissed, the words spilling out flinty. He runs like mad, holding you to his chest, keeping up a chant in Gallifreyan that you don't understand but it somehow keeps your brain from leaking out your ears and passing out. You’re barely registering his words through the burn in your limbs so you groan out a response. He lays you down on the medical table, rolls up his tattered shirtsleeves and scans you with his sonic, checking where and how to fix you. 

“Hm, hm, hm. Back in a flash.” He mutters, rushing around the room grabbing supplies here and there. Then, finally, he sets to work. 

“I’m sorry but I need you conscious for this.”He apologizes, then begins the procedure with a short sharp needle in the side of your arm. You grit your teeth and try to tough it out but it’s all getting to be too much. Your breathing comes in short gasps, and you try to calm down but your injury is getting to you. You’re starting to panic when The Doctor takes your hand in his. 

“D-doctor I I can’t do this.” You manage. 

“But you can. You have to.” He responds, brushing your hair back and lightly pushing on your chest to get you to lay down again. So you grit your teeth and let him get on with whatever happens next. Which happened to be cutting your pants away from the wound. He drenches a rag in alcohol and you have to look away as he starts to clean out the debris and dirt from the gash. You bite back a sob, not bearing to look at the work he’s begun. Slowly the pain that had nearly overwhelmed you ebbs away. 

“Just breathe. It’s alright.” 

There’s an intense pressure building in your shoulder blade as he digs shrapnel out piece by piece.

"You humans manage to bounce back from just about anything this should be easy." 

"Oh you think? You ever been blown up before?" 

He shrugs, "Once or twice." 

Quiet resumes as The Doctor continues his work. From somewhere you can practically hear rain beginning to fall as he finishes the procedure. 

"Survival's a nasty business for you lot. All that gristle and bone everywhere. It's _gross._" 

You roll your eyes, even after a day of madness like this he finds a way to lay on the snark. You want to snipe back with a comment about how timelords are probably just as gross (if not more so) but you're finding it hard to focus. It's hard to do anything beyond keeping your eyes open at this point. 

"What? No clever retort?" He asks, turning to find that you've fallen asleep. "Ah. I suppose I will bid you goodnight." 


End file.
